


Have Yourself a Merry Little Magnus

by elinorofealdor



Series: New for Us Both [7]
Category: Wallander (UK TV)
Genre: Christmas, Drama & Romance, Established Relationship, F/M, First Christmas, Holidays, Relationship(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-07 20:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5469203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elinorofealdor/pseuds/elinorofealdor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As the holidays near, Magnus and Emilia plan to spend some quality time together -- policemen's ball, Christmas, prezzies, etc. But will Magnus' history endanger a relationship that's finally going strong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Mid-December

**Author's Note:**

> My goal is to post one update per day in time with the story progression... we'll see how well I can keep to that.

“A ball? Seriously?” Emilia typed away as Magnus leaned in the doorway. “It’s like something out of--”  
“Tradition,” he interjected. “And don’t pretend you hate the idea.”  
She stopped typing, spinning around in her chair. “I have so much work to finish up before the twentieth. You know I wouldn’t be on your arm wearing some simple cocktail dress and my hair down for something like this.”  
“No half measures,” he said with a half smile. “It’s one of the things I love about you.”  
“Shouldn’t you, I don’t know, formally ask a girl then?”  
His half smile turned into a full one as he shifted off the door frame and stepped toward her. He crouched down before her, expression shifting to one of earnestness. “My darling Emilia, would you please do me the great honor of accompanying me to the holiday ball?”  
She sighed. “What color is your tie going to be?”  
“My tie?”  
A small smile crossed her lips. “So I can get a gown to match.”  
Magnus beamed, rising and pulling her up into his arms. “Thank you, darling.”  
She eased back from him after a brief embrace. “You know I’m a sucker for showing you off,” she winked.   
“That’s my line.”  
She shook her head. “Nope. Of the two of us, you’re totally the arm candy.”  
His eyes narrowed as he moved closer, head tilted down, lips pursed together. “If this is an attempt to get me to distract you from work and show you how powerfully sexy you are, it’s working.”  
“Is it?” She ran a hand up over his shoulder, ruffling the curls at the nape of his neck. “It’s not what I was after, but it’s not something I’m going to object to. I could use a break from work.”  
His lips drifted to hers, kissing her softly before trailing down to her neck. “You are so beautiful,” he purred. “So damn sexy. Cocktail dress, ball gown, sweats, naked -- each one is stunning.”  
“You don’t have to praise me to get me in the mood to taste you all over,” she returned as she wound her hand around his head, massaging it as his lips worked her neck down to her collarbone. “But it’s lovely to hear once in a while.”  
“You know what else is lovely to hear?”  
“Hmmm?”  
He wrapped an arm under her rear and hoisted her off the floor. “You screaming my name in ecstasy.”  
He carried her across the hall into her bedroom. An hour later, after she had screamed far more than his name, Magnus made them tea while Emilia searched on her phone for a gown. Showing him various possibilities, they finally settled on a dark teal, taffeta gown with a form-fitting corseted bodice and full skirt with black underskirt showing via a wide slit. Emilia set an appointment with the dress shop, then hopped up on the counter as Magnus finished the tea.   
“I’m glad there’s one that doesn’t look like a stacked wedding cake,” she said as Magnus handed her a mug.   
Magnus smiled. “I’ve never seen a wedding cake, or topper, with curves like yours.”  
Emilia smiled back, reaching for the drawstrings on his pants and giving them a tug. Magnus stepped into her pull, leaning in to kiss her. “So am I even going to see you after tonight before the ball?”  
Magnus sighed as he shifted back and leaned against the counter next to her. “Hopefully Thursday. I’m supposed to be out at four Tuesday, but at some point I have to actually get the rest of your gifts, so--”  
“It’s alright. I get it. I do. And I’m swamped, too.” She nudged his leg with her toes. “So glad you’re on the rotation this year to get off for Christmas.”  
He nodded, moving a hand to gently massage her thigh. “Just this week, and then we can play at being a proper couple who actually sees one another every day.”  
“Just play?” He turned to her and she winked.   
He gave a small laugh. “Sorry. Poor choice of phrase.” He kissed her cheek before taking a sip of tea. His gaze drifted to her bare legs, dangling off the counter with the hiked-up knee length robe giving a pleasant view of them up to mid thigh. He continued taking in her form up to her face. Emilia shifted forward and met his lips.   
“I’ve got maybe an hour left to finish this article. You want to work on dinner and then we can… relax?”  
“By relax you mean decorate the tree and such, don’t you?”  
She placed her hand on top of his, guiding it higher on her thigh. “We’ll see.”


	2. Saturday, December 20th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I started this story last year, the days/dates coincide with that -- or any year where 12/20 falls on a Saturday and so forth...

The evening of the ball arrived, with Magnus getting ready at his place and picking Emilia up. When she came down the stairs, barefoot, skirt hiked up so she could move easily, shoes in one hand and necklace dangling from the other, he strode to her and kissed her on the stairs while they were near to the same height.   
“Evening, darling,” he hummed, stepping back and taking the shoes and necklace from her. “You’re gorgeous.”  
“I don’t even have half my makeup on yet, my hair needs about two-thousand more pins to stay in place, and I’m not sure these shoes are going to work, and--” she paused, taking in the sight of him in his suit, her accessories clasped in his hands.   
“Thank you,” she smiled. “Sorry. Still in work mode. You look…” she appraised him with her gaze. “Edible.”  
She stepped forward and he kissed her again.   
“Difficult mode disengaged,” she said as she eased back.   
“Anything I can do to help?”  
“Besides follow me around and look gorgeous?”  
He smiled. “I’m fine with that, too.”  
“Help me see if I can actually dance in these shoes for one.”  
He nodded and set them on the floor. Rising, he held up the necklace and with his free hand made a little turning motion with his finger. Emilia complied. He draped and fastened the necklace, then bent to kiss her exposed shoulder and neck.   
He then clasped one of her hands and gently spun her to face him. Emilia smiled before picking up the shoes and walking over to the couch. She sat on the edge, her dress making a soft crunch. Magnus knelt before her and put on one shoe while she did the other. He pulled her to her feet and guided her out onto the patio.   
“Wait,” he said and scooted back inside. He turned on the TV, a jazzy holiday station with a crooner and soft horns in the background. He returned to Emilia and began to dance with her. She stumbled twice at first and he caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist.   
“You have other shoes,” he said simply.   
“You really don’t get the female urge to compose the perfect outfit, do you?”  
“I’ve seen it before, but not with you. It’s fine, darling. I want you to be comfortable. What about those bow-tie shoes? They’re black and you can dance in them.”  
Her hand trailed up from his shoulder to his neck. “I’d almost stick with these just to have you catch me.”  
“I thought you didn’t go in for the damsel thing.”  
She smirked. “I was think more being adoraklutzy. But you have a point there.” She turned from him and kicked the shoes inside through the open patio door.   
“Oh, cold,” she hissed as her feet hit the deck floor. Magnus hoisted her up from behind and carried her inside.   
“Thank you,” she giggled. Turning back to face him, her face grew more serious. “Will you do one more thing for me?”  
“Hmm?”  
“Spend a minute reminding me why all this dolling up is worth it?” He went to reply and she placed a finger on his lips. “Without words,” she smiled.   
Every part of her he kissed sent sparks through her body. He paid special attention to the area between her collarbone and where her dress began before moving around to kiss her back up to her shoulders and neck. He finished by repositioning a few of the pins in her hair a bit more firmly. Coming back around, he kissed her again before asking, “Better now?”  
“Mmmm, much,” she cooed. She kissed him once more, then sauntered down the hall to finish making herself up. Magnus went upstairs into her closet for the shoes and also pulled a black shoulder wrap from off the bed. He stepped into her bathroom to check his own hair and straighten his tie again before going downstairs.   
When Emilia came out of the bathroom, he extended the shoes and wrap to her. “Shall we?”  
Shoes and wrap on, she slid her arm through his and remained at his side as much as possible through the meal and first few dances. Once she loosened up a bit, Magnus let himself be taken around by her to chat with members of the area stations.   
When one of the new Ystad officers asked her for a dance, she looked to Magnus who nodded with a smile and left them, taking a few minutes to himself by one of the hall’s fireplaces.

The second song began and Magnus remained leaning against the wall, but his muscles tensed and he leaned forward slightly. He knew he needn’t be jealous; his instinct was more of protection, and yet there was a sense of possession, and almost predatory desire welling up as well. One dance, she’d said. One dance with the handsome new patrolman. It was his first ball, his first real event with the police force as he’d only been working there since September. He got on well with everyone, not just the females, and Magnus didn’t really have anything against him. So why did it feel like every nerve in his body was on fire?   
After the first dance had concluded, Emilia tried to slip away, but Greg asked for another dance. Magnus saw her hesitate, but then smile warmly and nod. None of that had bothered Magnus. Nothing had gotten under his skin until a minute into the dance when Greg, one hand clasping hers, the other almost cradling her at the waist, had leaned in and whispered in her ear, his lips brushing her soft, tender skin. Magnus knew how sensitive that area was for her and in that instant longed to replace Greg, just to feel her tremble under his touch. Yet that thought was secondary to the overwhelming sense that something about the encounter was now off. Emilia made no move to pull away, and they continued to dance, but Magnus was on edge.   
As soon as the music ended, Emilia slipped gracefully from Greg’s arms, clapping with the others for the band. She gave him a small nod and he returned it with a cheeky smile. She laughed, then turned for the refreshment table. Magnus watched Greg, watching her with a keen but not lascivious eye. Emilia plucked a glass of wine from the drinks table, then went over to the bar. Magnus’ gaze followed her. She received a glass of whiskey or scotch, then turned and made her way toward him. He forced himself to relax, but could still feel some of his muscles twitching as she handed him the wine glass.   
She took a swig of the heartier drink, then smiled. “Sorry about the extra dance. Playing nice with the new guy.”  
Magnus nodded, taking a sip of the wine.   
“Something wrong?”  
Magnus took a longer drink, then shook his head.  
“Liar,” she teased. She turned and leaned against the wall beside him, the skirt of her dress making a soft crunching sound against the wall. Running her fingers over the back of his hand, she said softly, “Come on, darling, what’s the matter?”  
Magnus sighed, downed the last of his wine, and set the goblet on a mantle on the other side. “Something. I don’t know, Mia. Something got under my skin watching him dance with you.”  
“Jealous?” She said, no hint of teasing or dismay in her tone.   
He looked to her. Her bright, curious eyes searching his with concern.   
“I didn’t think -- no. It’s not that. Did he -- can I ask what he whispered to you?”  
“You can, so long as you don’t jump to conclusions about it. He basically inferred that if you and I were to part ways, so to speak, he would love to be a shoulder to cry on and more.”  
Magnus swallowed. “And?”  
“And I basically told him to stuff it, politely and with a smile, because I have no intention of parting ways with you.”  
Magnus nodded, then brought her hand to his lips.   
“Which is when the odd remark came.”  
His stomach dropped. “Odd remark?”  
“He said something about what if the man I think I’m with isn’t the man I believe him to be.”  
“What, like I’ve got some mysterious double life or am hiding dark secrets from you?” He smiled.  
“Yeah,” she replied, eyeing him.  
“Mia,” he said soberly, “you know me.”  
She smiled again, and slid her hand up to his neck. She gave it a gentle tug and he bent his head down to meet her lips. His kiss was eager, and devoted. One hand snaked around her waist and pulled her to him. When she finally shifted back, he kissed her cheek, nuzzling his way toward her ear.   
“I love you,” he whispered. “I am completely yours, unashamedly as you well know. I’m no saint, love, but I try to be a good man.”  
She squeezed him gently, her hand trailing down to his waist. “I know. It was unnerving is all. Maybe he was just teasing, playing, or maybe he thinks he knows some secret about you I don’t, but,” she said, sliding from his arms. “If you can’t think of anything you haven’t told me by now, then I doubt there’s anything worth worrying about, for either of us.”  
“Well,” Magnus countered, reaching to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m not sure I’ve detailed all my terrible relationship drama with painful accuracy, but other than that--”  
“Stop,” she said with a small laugh. “It’s fine, really. Just, as I said, unnerving. It caught me off guard.”  
“He’s probably just teasing. Besides, now you have the whiskey to soften your nerves.” He glanced down at the hand holding the glass by the top.   
She raised it up toward him. “Scotch, actually. Want a taste?”  
He nodded and she held the glass up to him. He took a swig, the woodsy, almost musky flavor trailing down his throat with a warm sting. “Mmmm, nice choice.”  
She shrugged. “I told the bartender to give me something to soothe frayed nerves.”  
“Did it work?”  
“Yeah. Mostly being back with you did. The scotch is soothing to nerves but inspiring other desires.”  
“Are you sure that’s the scotch?”  
“Why don’t you ask me to dance and find out?”  
He grinned and took another swig of the scotch before setting the glass beside the wine goblet. He turned back to her and held out his hand. “Darling Emilia, would you grant me the pleasure of a dance?”  
She smiled back at him and took his hand. Her chest strained beneath her corset with each breath. As he led her out onto the floor he knew this would be the first of several dances tonight, and soon enough any trace of jealousy within him would be extinguished by her intoxicating desire for him.


	3. Interlude - Sunday (12/21): After the Ball

It was after two when they returned to Mia’s house. Magnus made them tea while Emilia showered and after a quick shower of his own, they drank their tea before curling up together in bed. Magnus wrapped an arm around her like he was holding a stuffed animal to his chest, while Mia rubbed one of her feet along his shin.   
“Thank you for coming tonight, darling,” he said after kissing her hair.   
“It was my pleasure. Sorry I was a grump about it initially.”  
“I should have asked sooner. I know it’s more of a burden for you, with getting ready and such. I only -- I wondered if it would seem too formal, too soon.”  
She laughed, a short light sound that warmed him. “We’ve sorted through much more complex scenarios, and you were worried about asking me to a formal dance?”  
“It felt… different. I don’t know how to describe it.”  
“The formality of it, we -- well, we haven’t done the wedding thing together yet. And I know a formal, social occasion with work can be stressful in general. Moreso given our history with the departments.”  
She shifted, turning to face him. He loosed his grip on her, running a hand up and down her spine. She kissed him softly on the shoulder. “It was a good night, though.”  
He nodded before leaning in to kiss her. “To be followed by many more. Days, too.”  
She eyed him. “What do you know that I don’t?”  
He shrugged. “Just optimistic.”  
“Liar,” she replied with a mock glare.   
He kissed her again, turning her pretend frustration to a contented simmer. When they parted, the look he gave her made Emilia blush. “You know I love you.”  
“And I love you, darling.” He pressed his lips to the top of her head before she turned around again. He pulled her in closes and she resumed running her foot along his shin until she fell asleep. Magnus held her close, coming to rest his chin on her shoulder in a gesture both protective and surrendering. Before he drifted to sleep, he reflected that nothing he’d yet experienced in life compared to the calm, the utter alignment of self, he felt with her in moments like this.


	4. Monday, December 22nd: The Truth Revealed

Monday at the office was rough for everyone. As it was the 22nd of December and after the yearly holiday parties, no one really wanted to be around, and every ring of the phone caused someone to twitch or shudder.  
Still, Magnus found himself in a decent mood. He’d had an enjoyable Sunday with Mia, helping her with some last minute holiday baking, both of them hiding from one another for a bit to wrap gifts, all bookended by anything-but-lazy morning sex and very cozy evening sex in front of her fireplace. He had almost shown her one of her gifts, lying cuddled up together on the comforter in front of a crackling fire basking in the afterglow, but as he contemplated reaching for the package containing the papers to sell his flat so he could move in with her, she’d slithered under the plaid blanket draped over their bodies and distracted him with her delicious mouth until he carried her upstairs to return the pleasure in kind (and thensome).  
Early in the afternoon, Greg came into the station offices with two other patrolmen. After handling their charges, Greg sauntered over to Magnus, who was working on fixing a tech issue for Kurt.  
“Thought I’d say thanks for letting me dance with your lady last night,” Greg said, leaning against the side of the desk. Magnus glanced up at him, a teasing smile on Greg’s lips, before looking back to the computer.  
“She made that choice for herself. As most people in healthy relationships do.”  
Greg chuckled. “So she told you about our little chat.”  
“She did.”  
“And you’re not worried.”  
“No.” Magnus was straining to keep his focus on the computer. “We know where we stand with one another, and after all we’ve been through, there’s not anything that could--”  
A photograph dropped on the keyboard. Magnus’ swallowed back a gasp.  
“You remember Elise, then? She certainly remembers you.”  
Magnus went for the photo, but Greg swiped it up.  
“You little shit,” Magnus snapped. “That’s confidential.”  
Greg’s smile widened. “For the clients, sure. But I was never a client. My sister shared things in confidence, of course. It wouldn’t really put me in the best light with her if this information were made common knowledge. And I don’t intend that.”  
“You intend to tell my girlfriend,” Magnus hissed. “Why?”  
“I’m an asshole, and your girlfriend is intriguing.”  
Magnus finally locked his gaze with Greg, challenging. “And right there are two reasons you don’t belong anywhere near her. Shed smash your face into this desk in a heartbeat, and I’m about to do it for her.”  
Greg eased off the desk, holding up his hands. “Easy there, detective. I’m not looking for a fight. Not even looking to take your place. Long term isn’t really my thing. But I’ve got enough experience being a sympathetic post-breakup ear for troubles and shoulder to cry on, and man, the revenge sex is just,” he inhaled like he was smelling an intoxicating perfume. “God, it’s amazing.”  
Magnus fumed, yet held himself in check. “If you utter one word of this to her--”  
“What? You going to tell her yourself? Ladies hate secrets, particularly ones as salacious as this. I’ve done enough digging on other guys to know how this plays out. In any scenario, it doesn’t work out well for you.”  
“You’ve done this? Broken up couples just to shag the woman because you have a revenge sex fetish?”  
“I’m not the one with the secret past, mate. I can just smell them. I find it my duty to let these women see their men for who they truly are before they ruin the rest of their life.”  
“So you ruin it for them?” Magnus spat.  
“That’s entirely up the the men, really. All they need is to tell the truth.”  
“Fuck off.”  
Greg’s expression shifted, something akin to wounded, but his eyes were victorious. “Am I to take it you’d prefer I tell the lovely Emilia your history then? I might be tempted to embellish a bit, and--”  
“What do you want?”  
“Exactly what I’ve said. For you to tell her the truth about your past. Let her decide from there. Potentially being around to get her through the trauma of learning her boyfriend was a--”  
“Shut up.” Magnus cut in, clenching a fist. “You think I’d tell her this now? Just before Christmas? It’s cruel.”  
“Like I said,” Greg smiled. “I’m an asshole. Think about it. Let me know tomorrow.”  
Magnus went to answer back but Greg was called off again. He smirked as he strode away as Magnus slumped back in the chair. He debated contacting Kurt. Then Linda. Then Mia’s friend Mel. Finally he found himself texting Mia.  
_We need to talk tonight, about Greg._  
He tried to refocus on Kurt’s computer, but found himself tearing up. When his phone vibrated he blinked back tears to read the screen.  
_Ok_.  
He swallowed, wishing there was something more to her reply. Anything to give an indication of her thoughts or mood.  
_I’ll be to your place around seven. I love you._  
The reply was almost immediate. _Of course you do :) Work hard. xxx_  
The rest of the day passed in a blur for Magnus. Before he knew it, he was at Mia’s, sitting with her on the edge of her bed, trying to find the words to express the one part of his past he buried so deep he thought no one would ever find it again, why he hid it from Mia, and how Greg was the slimiest shit on the planet. But the words wouldn’t come and soon Mia’s voice cut through the fog in his mind.  
“Magnus, you’re crying.”  
The shock in her voice ripped through him and he bowed his head.  
“Darling, what is it?” She reached out a hand to cradle his neck and he flinched back.  
“Don’t, please,” he managed with a shaky breath.  
She stood up, taking a few steps away from him. “Magnus, I -- what did I do?”  
Her shock had been replaced with pain and his eyes darted up to hers. Tears welled in her eyes now and he couldn’t stop himself from feeling the overwhelming need both to protect her, which meant hurting her, and to comfort her, which she would not accept after being hurt.  
“You didn’t do anything,” he breathed, trying to find some level of calm. He could explain it to her, rationally. He owed her that much. He owed her so much more, but he may not have time left for anything but this. “I -- I found out what Greg’s been holding over us, over me. It’s not -- I mean I never meant -- I didn’t think it would ever--”  
“Magnus, just tell me.” Her voice shook and he saw how she struggled to remain calm.  
God, how he wanted her in his arms. “You know how we talked about our relationships, and I told you I didn’t have that much experience with long term things. I mean, other than my spectacular failure with Katrina, they’ve been pretty brief relationships.”  
Emilia nodded, the tears seeming to subside as her breath hitched.  
Magnus swallowed hard, trying to find the right words. “There was a time, before training and Uni, when I was sort of, very, lost. The drunken bar fights and self-destruction I masked as soul searching.”  
“I know.”  
“I seem to have omitted a section of that which Greg is privy to.”  
“Which is?”  
The clipped tone made him want to flinch, or scream, or just hold her close and tell her how sorry he was, how she didn’t deserve him, she deserved so much more. Instead he drew in a short breath and exhaled slowly.  
“For the better part of a year I was heavily involved in what some might refer to as… deviant sexual practices.”  
He searched her face for a reaction, and she stilled.  
“Did you rape anyone?”  
“What?” He stood up, confused and hurt by the accusation. “No, god no. Never. I wouldn’t ever--”  
She held up a hand. How was she taking command of the conversation? He hadn’t even made it past the first sentence of his confession.  
“Seriously injure anyone?”  
“No.”  
“Get someone pregnant?”  
“No. Mia--”  
“Contract some communicable disease?”  
He sighed flopping down onto the edge of the bed again. “Christ, no.”  
“Then what?”  
“I was… part of an underground sex club. Nothing seedy. All above board with strict rules and client anonymity and all that, but not -- not for the vanilla, so to speak.”  
“Bondage?”  
He nodded.  
“Flogging, spanking, and the like?”  
“Yeah.”  
“D/s play?”  
“Yeah. Yes.”  
“Fetishism?”  
“A bit.”  
“Voyeurism? Exhibitionism?”  
He nodded again.  
“Orgies?”  
“Occasionally.”  
“Scat or anything like that?”  
He scrunched his nose. “No. I mean, they could refer you to places that -- but I never. No.”  
“How long?”  
“About ten months.”  
“Why did you stop?”  
He ran a hand through his hair. “That’s a long story. Short version, I got it out of my system.”  
She raised an eyebrow at him, a hand perched on her hip. He almost thought a smile flickered through her eyes. He recalled some of their escapades and felt blood rushing to his cheeks. That last part was a lie. Some things he hadn’t gotten out of his system, and during his relationship with her realized he didn’t want to.  
“Look, Mia,” he said, trying to regain some control, some clarity. “I know we haven’t always been compatible on certain things, aspects of our relationship, but I’ve never thought about -- what I mean is there’s nothing lacking for me in the sex part. Never has been. You’re… god, you’re more than I could ever have asked for, but I didn’t want you to know about this. It got pretty dark for a while, and then I just buried it. Everything was confidential, and I didn’t think anyone would ever--”  
“Then how does Greg know?”  
Magnus dropped his gaze. “His sister. She was-- we had some… encounters.”  
Emilia hissed but when he looked up to her, she remained passive. “Were you ever hurt? Physically?”  
Damnit. She would intuit that one. “Just once,” he murmured. She stared him down until he sighed again. “That scar behind my left hip. It’s not from a bar fight. There was a girl, newer to things, and I was testing out, um, being lashed. She struck hard and one of the barbs… it caught.”  
Emilia gulped and he stood, reaching for her but unable to actually make himself move for her. He held his hands up. “It’s fine. I mean, I’m fine.” He dropped his arms and slunk back. “I’ve really fucked this up, haven’t I?”  
Tears stung his eyes again and he turned away from her. He felt them begin to slide down his cheeks, and then heard a most unexpected sound.  
“Emilia?” He turned back to her, to confirm what he heard. Tears were in her eyes still, but she was laughing. Quiet, tittering laughter with a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.  
“What? What did I--”  
She strode to him, reaching up and yanking his neck down. She kissed hard, and his dazed confusion lasted all of two seconds. She forced his mouth open with hers and he moaned. No sooner did his hands wrap around her waist than she pulled them both to the bed. He sat toward the edge and she straddled him, her thighs pulsing against him. He felt his heart pounding up through his chest to his ears as she pressed herself against him, as though she could sink into his body.  
When her lips detached from his, he sucked in a gulp of air, trying to remind himself of what he needed to do. This had to be a moment of blind fury for her, a tantalizing charge of envisioning him bound and beaten and begging for more, but she would never deign to keep him anymore after--  
His thoughts were interrupted by her teeth scraping along his neck, up to his ear. The blood flow which had pounded in his head shot straight to his groin.  
“Fuck, Mia,” he breathed. “I’m trying to explain.”  
“You can be so dense sometimes,” she snarled before nipping his earlobe and sending more sparks through him. She pulled away, her hands still locked around his neck, fingers caressing the base of his skull. “You think I didn’t notice some streak of deviancy in you? You remember our first date? How it started off on the plane--”  
“I don’t think that’s--”  
“And your whispered threats to take me in public, before we’d even had sex the first time. The way you teased me leading up to it. The opera. Not to mention your birthday, the cars, the experience in the lift, or on your desk.”  
“Alright,” he growled. “I get it.”  
“No, babe. I don’t think you do.”  
The teasing suddenly faded to his feared tone. This did wound her, deeply, and he had no remedy for that. Realization thrummed in his head and he felt the wind knocked out of him.  
“I didn’t know she was Greg’s sister. I didn’t know she had a brother. I swear, Mia, I didn’t even know her last name. The club had its rules and even when they were bent for forming couples, I wasn’t interested in that. It was just sex.”  
“No, it wasn’t.”  
He took one of her hands in his pulling it down from his neck, curling his fingers over hers. “Yes, it was.”  
Emilia shook her head. “She saw you at your most raw, your most vulnerable, your most turbulent. And you hid that part of yourself from me. That should’ve been something you shared.”  
“I know. I just -- I thought if you knew…”  
“What?”  
“You wouldn’t want me anymore. Worse, you wouldn’t trust me. I sure as hell didn’t trust myself then. The club was safe, but I wasn’t.”  
“You think if I knew what experimental sex shit you did as a young adult, your irresponsibility and feeling lost in it all, I’d be inclined to think you capable of slipping back to it?”  
“I--”  
She threw her head back and laughed again. “Oh, Magnus.” She ruffled his hair with her free hand, entwining her fingers in his curls. “My beautiful idiot.”  
She leaned close. This time her kiss was soft, forgiving, and he trembled beneath her touch.  
“I thought you were going to tell me you had a child somewhere, or god, something worse. This -- this is…” She drifted and now he did see a smile teasing her lips. She licked them as she settled onto his lap, giving a little rock to her hips that made his eyelids flutter. “This is it, yes? What Greg’s been taunting about revealing?”  
He nodded, his mouth going dry as her gaze leveled him. She was upset, hurt, and he knew her well enough to know there was a touch of simmering rage in there, too. He’d shaken her trust in him, but not in the way he expected, not to the extent he expected either.  
“Are there any other skeletons in your proverbial closet?”  
“No,” he replied quickly. “I mean, nothing worse than this. Nothing even close.”  
A smile played on her lips again, but her eyes were sad. “That time in your life really played havoc with you, didn’t it?”  
“Yes.”  
“It’s still playing with you,” she stated, so matter of fact, he almost laughed.  
“I suppose so,” he reluctantly admitted.  
“Were you afraid this would end us?”  
“A bit.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I lied to you.”  
She shook her head. “That’s not it.”  
“I betrayed our trust, our bond.”  
“You did, some, but that’s not it either. What were you really afraid of, Magnus? Tell me.”  
He sighed, weary yet no longer despondent. She hadn’t thrown him out yet, and maybe she wouldn’t. He searched for the words to describe his feelings, and while he did, she leaned in and kissed him again. Her warmth comforted him, and the guilt rocketed through his mind. He wronged her; how was it he was now the vulnerable one? She did deserve better, and yet she chose him and wasn’t letting go. Maybe it was up to him then, to rise to the challenge rather than let slip away the best thing he’d ever found in life.  
When she pulled back, she tilted her head up and placed a kiss on his forehead. Her fingers had hardly ceased playing with his hair and massaging the back of his head since they sat down, and he felt a primal urge to purr, to melt away into her arms.  
“I love you.” The words came unbidden from someplace inside he didn’t fully register. “Emilia, I love you so much, with everything I have. And I want, so much, to be enough for you. I know that if I ever break your trust, I could lose you. And I risked it with this because I was afraid. Things I did then, the way I was then -- It’s not something I ever want to go back to, not even in memory. I thought if it stayed buried I’d never feel that kind of shame again. And then all this -- this is worse shame than I thought possible.”  
She ran her lips across his temple, down his jawline. “We’re going to go downstairs and have a glass of wine. Maybe a bottle of it. And you’re going to tell me everything, every goddamn detail, including what happened with Greg’s sister.”  
“Mia--”  
She nipped his other earlobe and he growled. “I don’t care if it takes all night. I don’t care if you cry through half of it, or scream it, or stare into the fireplace the entire time, you are giving me everything. And then,” she pulled back and looked him with an expression that brooked no argument. “Tomorrow you are going into work and telling that little shit that you told me everything, and he can stick his manipulative little plans up his ass because I am not going anywhere, and neither are you. Are we clear?”  
Magnus nodded.  
“Say it.”  
“We’re clear.”  
“We’re clear, what?”  
He felt his cheeks flush even as the smile creeped into his lips. “We’re clear, darling.”  
“Good.” She beamed, then kissed him quickly before bounding off his lap. “Come on,” she beckoned with a swish of her hips. “Story time.”  
She bolted out of the room and he stood, running his hand across his face before sighing. “I love you!” He called as he strode away from the bed.  
“And I love you, dumbass!” She called back.  
The pop of a cork urged him out of the bedroom and downstairs. Emilia stood with her back toward him, pouring chilled wine into two goblets. He slid up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist. He kissed his way from the top of her head down to her neck, where he gave it a nibble.  
“Stop,” she laughed.  
He gave her a gentle squeeze before releasing her and grabbing the two wine glasses. She put the bottle back in the fridge as he set the goblets on the side table. He moved to the fireplace, stoking the logs a few times, then flicked the switch to turn on the lights on the tree. Emilia had settled on the couch, her legs curled up with a glass of wine in her hand. She ran her fingers around the rim as she gazed at him. He moved toward her, then sat against the side of the couch, much like he had on of their early nights together. She handed him a glass and he took it, clinking it against hers before bringing it to his lips. He took a sip, then shifted the glass to his other hand. He brought the free arm up to rest on the couch beside her, his fingers starting to dance along her thigh.  
“I don’t know where to start,” he sighed.  
“Pick a beginning, and go from there.” She placed a hand over his fingers and gave a squeeze. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
He told her everything. At times he did cry. So did she. Once he finished, she collected their wine glasses and the bottle, led him upstairs, and cradled him in her arms until he fell asleep. He could feel the tension from her, the emotional distance separating them now, and though it made him uneasy and riddled with guilt, he hoped she would one day forgive him completely. Until then, he vowed to himself that he would let her guide the pace between them.


	5. Tuesday, December 23rd: Christmas Eve Eve

Magnus’ conversation with Greg the next day was not as kind as befitted the type of person he tried to be, but after fearing Greg’s untimely revelation might seriously disrupt or end the most important relationship Magnus had ever formed, he felt a bit entitled to be less than gentlemanly.   
Greg’s reaction was one of surprise, though he finally just shrugged and said, “Fair enough. Hope you two are happy together.”  
Magnus wanted to pound him into the ground until he could never shrug again, but thought better of it. What mattered more was finishing today’s work and going home to Mia -- trying to make the best of the shit situation which, while Greg’s fault for a number of reasons, Magnus admitted to himself might have been avoided had he brought up this segment of his past sooner. Yet by the time he left the station, all he could really focus on was settling in for a few days with Mia. He entered her home and shuffled over to the sofa, not really sure how to greet her.   
As soon as he sat on the sofa, she settled beside him. He turned to her, about to speak, when her lips were on his. She clasped his face in her hands, her lips encouraging him. Moments like this, when she didn’t shy away from him, showed her love even though she was still wounded, meant more than anything.  
Yet as they kissed, her hands roamed downwards, teasing all his sensitive areas. Sliding a palm up beneath his shirt to lightly run nails along his back, he almost shuddered. The other hand moved to tease along his thigh.   
He deserved this, her working him up on purpose. Any minute she would slip off the couch to make supper and he would be left with a raging erection and an embarrassed grin, and -- she slid onto his lap.   
Before he could huff, now just a little aggravated at her level of teasing, her fingers deftly worked his fly open.   
She yanked his cock free and as he moaned, anticipating still her leaving him aroused and unfulfilled, she sank down and he was inside her.   
His mind reeled. No panties under that long, thick skirt, and god she was so wet. He wrapped his arms around her, but finally pulled back from her lips.  
“Mia, you don’t have to--”  
She rocked against him and his hips jerked up.   
“Fuck. Darling, I--”  
She slid up his shaft a couple inches, then plunged back down and he growled. Her eyes locked on his, challenging. Then he realized how wrong all his assumptions were. That what she had tried to explain last night got lost in his own doubts and feelings of long-harboured shame. He was hers, body and mind and soul, regardless of his youthful indiscretions which hampered him in ways he never fully realized until the past few days.   
He flashed a quick grin, then dove for her lips. He kissed her again and again, all over her face until she was giggling, her breasts rubbing against his chest as she laughed.   
“I love you,” he said between kisses. “God, how I love you.”  
“I know,” she replied, her laughter subsiding. “So show me,” she added with a wink.   
They were upstairs, declothed, and on the bed in record time, and he buried himself within her again. Her legs locked around his hips and he tortured them both with long, slow strokes, his lips caressing every sensitive and sacred place from the top of her head down to her breasts. He murmured his feelings to her between his kisses. She kept running her fingers through his hair and along his shoulders, and he knew in this moment he could die happy.   
As the realization struck, pinpricks started at the back of his eyes. He stopped moving within her, shifted up and pulled her close into an embrace. She wrapped her arms around his neck, gently kissing his cheek. He trembled in her arms and she cooed in his ear.  
“It’s alright, love. Everything’s going to be alright.” She kissed his jaw. “It’s Christmas after all.”  
She gave a tiny giggle and he started to relax.  
“We don’t have to do this now.” She guided his head up to look down at her. “You probably could have done without me pouncing on you.”  
“Don’t say that,” he managed to reply, despite years of shame catching in his throat. He swallowed it down. “I didn’t think you’d want to for a while, after everything. Nothing could have been more pleasantly surprising.”  
Her soft, sad smile returned as she ran two fingers down his jaw. “Baby, we have got to get your head back on straight.”  
“I know. I just don’t know how.”  
“We’ll figure it out. Together.”  
He nodded. “I couldn’t do it without you. I need you--”  
His voice was choked by an unexpected sob, and she pulled his head down under her neck. She kissed the top of his head and smoothed a hand over his curls. “I need you, too, darling. I meant it when I said I’m not going anywhere. Remember when we were first together and you had to keep me from pulling away from you? I should have expected the tables to turn at some point.”  
“Mia, I’m sorry.” He murmured through fading tears. “I don’t--”   
“I’m not after an apology. I just need you to know that I’m here for you, for us. But you need to be here, too. I’m not the one trying to run away now.” To punctuate her statement, she nudged his hip with her foot, reminding him that her legs were still draped around his midsection, his cock still hard within her.   
Unbidden, he twitched inside her and she smiled.   
“We don’t have to keep going,” she purred. “But I certainly won’t argue if you want to just keep that delicious cock buried inside me for a while.”  
Her inner walls clenched around him and he moaned. “God, you know how to get me.”  
“And don’t you forget it,” she replied, drawing his head back up.   
He kissed her, sweet at first, then needful and deep. When he moved a hand around to her breasts and gave one a gentle squeeze, she moaned his name, and he needed no further encouragement. By the time they were done, both were sweaty, panting, with massive grins on their faces, and starving.  
“What time is it?” Emilia turned her head toward the alarm clock, matted hair flopping over her eyes.   
Magnus laughed and kissed the side of her head as he glanced at the clock. “Almost nine,” he said, rising up on his heels and brushing her hair away from her face.  
“Too late to order in, you think?”  
He shook his head.   
She stretched her arms out across the bed, then arched her back slightly. Her chest lifted off the bed and Magnus slid a hand up to toy with a nipple.   
“You are insatiable,” she smiled as she sank back onto the covers and batted his fingers away.   
His stomach grumbled and they both laughed. “Apparently so is my stomach,” he grinned.  
“Well, we have been at it for over two hours, and I don’t know about you, but I was peckish even before you got here.”  
“Mmm,” he agreed, then clasped her hands in his and pulled her up to sitting. He kissed her again, his lips raw and slightly swollen from their evening, but not wanting to stop touching her with them.   
“Food, Magnus,” she said between kisses.   
He sighed as she pulled back from him and scooted off the bed. She grabbed her long robe from the closet and wrapped it around herself as he gazed at her. Smirking as she tied it closed, she kicked his jeans toward the bed. He slunk off and pulled them back on, then bent over and wrapped his arms around her. He swept her up and bent her over his shoulder to carry her downstairs, and she laughed the whole way. 

Hours later, the fire crackling in front of them as they sat leaning against the couch, Emilia’s head resting against his chest as he cradled her, Magnus sighed, deep and content.  
“It’s late,” she murmured.  
“Mmmm…” His hand caressed her thigh.   
“We should get to bed.”  
“We should, shouldn’t we?”  
“Don’t you dare,” she replied quickly. “That sexy little mischievous tone is not going to work right now. I’m amazed I can sit upright.”  
“You don’t have to sit--”  
“Magnus,” she warned. “It’s not all about the physical.”  
He sighed again, much less content. “I know.”  
“Hey,” she said, shifting over to lift her head and look up at him. “No sliding back down into the place of shame. For one, it’s now Christmas Eve. For two,” she clasped his neck and brought his lips to hers. She hummed with pleasure as they kissed, and his lips broke into a smile.   
“Better,” she grinned as she slipped out of his arms. “Now, seeing as it is Christmas Eve, you never did answer me about the present thing.”  
“You still want to?”  
“What? Get gifts from you?” She rolled her eyes and gave his arm a light thwap with her hand. “Duh.”  
“Spoiled brat,” he grinned. “That’s not what I meant.”  
“I know what you meant, and I’m not letting you sink any further into the swamps of sadness.” She leaned forward and kissed his nose. His arms encircled her and he pulled her onto his lap. She squirmed a bit, but he kept her from slipping out. Finally, she relented to straddling him, plopping her bottom down on his thighs with an exasperated sigh.  
“Do I look like I’m sinking?”  
“Not at this moment. And look who’s calling me a brat.”  
He chuckled as his arms wound her closer to him, their chests pressing against each other. He smoothed a hand up her spine.   
“This is gift enough for me,” he said softly before kissing her collarbone. “But,” he added, quickly pulling back and flashing her another grin. “Since we’ve already got each other gifts, seems a shame not to share them.”  
Her smile brought warmth to his chest.   
“So, one tonight, and the rest Christmas morning. That was your idea, yes?”  
She nodded.  
“And we choose which one gets given to the other tonight?”  
Another nod.  
He kissed her again, with all the promises he hadn’t yet given and couldn’t bring himself to say aloud. “Alright,” he said, punctuating his promise with a kiss on her forehead. He hoisted her off his lap and shifted forward to get the sand bucket to douse the fire. “To bed it is, then.”  
Upstairs, entangled in each other’s arms, Magnus ran his hand over her hip as she sighed, kissing his neck.   
“It is going to work, isn’t it?” Magnus said softly.  
“What? Us?”  
He nodded, his chin brushing the crown of her head.   
“Do you want it to?”  
“More than anything,” he confessed.   
“Then just keep working at it, and it will.” She lifted her head and kissed the underside of his jaw. He shifted his head back and tilted it down to meet her lips with his.   
“Thank you,” he murmured.   
“What for?”  
“For keeping me,” he whispered as his lips moved to her neck. He gave her waist a gentle squeeze. He positioned himself lower, resting his head against her chest.   
She ran her fingers along the base of his skull, and he felt himself suddenly flush with weariness. “It goes both ways, darling,” she said softly as he drifted to sleep.


	6. Wednesday, December 24th: Christmas Eve

Magnus opened the door to Mia’s bedroom, ready to slip down with a wrapped gift. He paused at the top of the stairs. Sounds of instrumental holiday music piped from the TV, muffling the short sniffles. He turned back and moved over to the bed, setting the gift down on the edge before turning back and going downstairs. He went directly for her, skirting around the back of the sofa to sit beside her. He put his arm around her and she froze.  
“Mia, what is it?”  
Her tears continued to flow, streaking her cheeks. He reached his other hand over, fingers gently wiping them away.  
“Will you talk to me?”  
“Do you know how much I was willing to forgive with what you did?”  
Magnus pulled his hand back. “I thought--”  
“Just let me say it.” She turned to him, steeling herself, tears still pooling, but she wasn’t blubbering or simpering. For a brief moment her eyes turned to ice when matching his gaze, then softened.  
“My mind went wild thinking of everything that you could have done that someone might have thought would end us. Most of them involved some secret relationship or really terrible treatment of an ex, but even those… When you actually told me, I was angry, yes. More from you hiding from me than because of anything you did in your past. Because there was so much I could forgive, it seemed ridiculous what you actually withheld. I can’t promise I won’t still get riled for a bit, but I’m working not to. I’ll keep working at it. Because Magnus,” She bowed her head and he gave her shoulder a gentle squeeze, letting her know he would let her continue.  
“Magnus, I know you. I know the man you are now, the man who’s been with me. Who is with me. And regardless of what you did in the past, and there are so many things I would forgive, because I know who you are now, how whatever you’ve done before has shaped you into -- into the man I want to be with more than anything in this world. And it hurts that you didn’t trust me enough to tell me, because it does make me wonder what else you might be hiding, but more than that it means I haven’t given you something to show you how much I love you. How much I would forgive because I see you, for everything you are, and I love you for who you are. And I don’t know where that leaves us, but I don’t want you to hide from me anymore, Magnus. I mean it when I say I’m not going anywhere, not unless you tell me to or unless--”  
“Mia, wait. Please.” He said, clasping her face firmly with his hand and lifting her chin. “Thank you, for telling me this. I know I’ve put you in a shit place with all of it, and darling it means everything to me that you’re working to forgive me, that you’re staying, and have stayed after I hurt you. And I know I can’t just apologize and have it done with, and I need you to know that it isn’t an apology, but I think you should open your gift now.”  
“Magnus, you can’t just put a bow on this and call it fixed.”  
“I’m not trying to, love. Give me your trust again for a moment, please.”  
He waited for her reply, releasing her chin. She nodded. Magnus shifted off the couch and moved to the tree, slipping his hand toward the back underneath it. He pulled out a wrapped sweater box and shifted back to the couch. Emilia had taken several tissues to wipe her face. He let her finish, setting the balled up tissues on the table, before handing her the package.  
She glanced to him as she took it and set it in her lap. He gave a single, assuring nod. Emilia worked the bow off the edges and slid the ribbon off the box. She dropped it in Magnus lap and he wrapped the ribbon around his wrist, positioning the bow on top. Her fingers slid between the top and bottom of the box, catching and slicing the tape holding it closed. She lifted the top off and dropped it on the floor. Inside, red tissue paper covered a smaller flat package. Taking it out, she turned it in her hand for a moment before unwrapping it. Within was a brown leather folio. She glanced to him. Magnus licked his lips, his focus on the folio. She ran her fingers over it, then opened it. A handwritten note sat on top of the few papers within, reading:  
_Emilia -_  
_It may seem soon, but since we’ve done so much out of order already, I thought for once we should try a logical progression. And I no longer want to call home anywhere but where you are._  
_I love you, darling,_  
_Magnus_  
She read the note twice, her breath catching in her throat, before she moved it aside. Scanning the pages, she reached the final one where an orange arrow tag pointed to a signature and date line.  
“I haven’t signed it yet, only because I wanted to make sure. I mean, I am sure, Mia. Completely. I want you to be sure, though.”  
“You did all this before,” she breathed, turning to look at him. He nodded. “And you still--”  
“I still do,” he cut in.  
Emilia closed the folder and set the box gently on the floor. She turned back to Magnus, her look inscrutable, but her chest began to rise and fall more rapidly.  
“Mia,” he said softly.  
A smile broke through as one of her hands reached to clasp his neck. “Come here,” she beamed.  
His lips were on hers in a flash, his arms wrapped around her, pulling her into his lap. They kissed for a moment before he pulled back, cupping her face in his hand. “Does this mean you accept my present?”  
Tears welled in her eyes again, but her face reflected nothing but joy. “Yes,” she breathed, then again more firmly. “Yes, Magnus.”  
“Happy Christmas, my love,” he beamed.  
“Happy Christmas,” she replied before kissing him again.  
She hugged him, trailing kisses down to his neck and nuzzling her face against his shoulder. Magnus held her close, running a hand down her back.  
“You can think about it. I didn’t want to take the choice away, but I thought with the money from selling my flat we could do some expansion here, or put in for a place together.”  
She nodded, her nose rubbing along his neck.  
“I know you love me, darling. I’ve always known. I am so sorry for the mess I made this week, and I promise to do all I can to earn back all of your trust. But I want this. I’ve wanted it for months. I took a leap hoping you’d want it to.”  
“I do,” she murmured against his chest, settling her head against it. His heart pounded against her ear and he cradled her in his arms. “Thank you.”  
“Thank you, darling,” he punctuated by kissing the top of her head. “After the past couple days I wasn’t sure this was the best time to offer this, but I just thought if I didn’t do it now,” he stopped, shaking his head. She looked up at him and he kissed her nose. “I’m not about to let you go either. It would have happened. I would have asked. I’m just happy you said yes.”  
“You’re my home too, you know,” she said, almost purring.  
“Come here,” he smiled before dipping his head to meet her lips. For a time they got lost in each other. Later, with Magnus holding her on top of him stretched out on the couch, their kisses had slowed to a simmering massage of lips. Magnus’ stomach rumbled, a gentle rippling pressing against Emilia’s lower abdomen. She giggled.  
“Dinner bell,” she smiled and he laughed.  
“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish smile.  
“Don’t be,” she eased up, straddling his legs and clasping his hands to help him sit up. “Holiday eats coming up.”  
She made to move off him and he wrapped an arm around her waist. “And for dessert?”  
“Mmmm… there’s my insatiable love.” She kissed him again, then shifted his arm back and slipped off the couch. “Weren’t you finishing my other presents?” She called as she moved into the kitchen.  
“I was.”  
“Well, why don’t you finish that up and come back down here to make us some Christmas nibbles, and maybe some cocktails.”  
“As you wish,” he smiled, shifting off the couch. He came up behind her in the kitchen and kissed her hair. “I love you.”  
She laid her hand on his arm and gave it a squeeze. “I love you, Magnus.” She turned to face him. “Now can I get dinner started so we can actually have it before it’s Christmas?”  
“It’s only,” he glanced at the oven clock. “Three.”  
“And the pork alone takes four hours.”  
He smiled before kissing her once again. “Whatever will we do with all that time?”  
“Snack, drink, and be merry. Maybe dance a bit. You still have a gift to open from me, too, remember?”  
He nodded. “You’re the best gift.”  
“So I can keep yours?” She smirked.  
He bent down and nibbled her neck. “No, vixen.” He stepped back and slipped away from her upstairs, whistling in tune with the music from the TV.  
When he came back with two wrapped packages and put them under the tree, Emilia was at the stove, flipping pieces of pork in a cast iron pot. The meat sizzled as it hit the hot pan and Magnus inhaled the scent of marinated meat, sighing. He came into the kitchen and leaned against the counter. “Smells wonderful.”  
“I can’t believe I didn’t think to make this sooner. It was one of the first things I learned to cook well. And while there’s some prep and finishing stuff that’s kind of time consuming, it’s not hard. And there’s hours in the middle where you just let it slow cook.”  
Magnus nodded. “So, heavy cocktail and light nibbles, or lighter cocktail and heavier snacks?”  
Emilia looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Well, you’re the one with the grumbling stomach. I’m easy.”  
“How’s the egg nog doing?”  
She nodded toward the fridge before turning back to the stove. “Check and see.”  
Magnus opened the fridge, smiling at the array of food crammed inside. He and Emilia had been prepping off and on for a couple weeks to prepare for their first Christmas together. Magnus had off from today through the twenty-eighth, and other than getting together with Kurt and Linda the day after Christmas, the pair had planned to hole up at Mia’s for the duration.  
It had been a busy time at the station and for the past six weeks they hadn’t been together more than two nights a week and the occasional full day since then. He realized again that without a foundation laid by weeks of them being together before they got ‘together,’ building a true friendship and trust, and their first vacation-slash-series-of-dates, Greg’s plans to break them up may have succeeded. He’d seen it happen in less intense circumstances with less strong partners, especially not having spent much time together recently.  
This ran through his mind as he scanned the shelves of prepared doughs ready for baking, the treats already baked, loaves of homemade bread, fruits, meats and cheeses all waiting to be sliced and eaten. He glanced back to Emilia over the fridge door, absorbed in checking the brownness of each piece of pork.  
“This is going to be a regular thing now,” he smiled.  
“What?” Emilia asked, half listening as she started dumping chopped onions and garlic into the pot.  
“Dinner together.”  
She glanced to him, registering his meaning. “Yeah,” she replied softly. As the blush crept into her cheeks, she looked away. “Would you, um, hand me the pinot in there?”  
Magnus scanned the shelves inside the door, pulling out the half-empty bottle of wine and handing it to her over the door. Emilia poured several healthy splashes of wine in the pot, using her other hand to scrape along the bottom with the tongs as steam poured up. Magnus snagged the bottle from her outstretched hand and put it back in the fridge. He dug around inside, finally pulling out a couple hard cheeses, some meats, two oranges, a pomegranate, a half-finished loaf of crusty brown bread, and a small plate of assorted cookies. He busied himself preparing the snacks as Emilia finished cleaning up from the prep and moved the bubbling pork pot to the simmering back burner. The heavy lid clanked down before she turned to watch Magnus, digging out the seeds of the pomegranate into a small bowl.  
She shifted over and snagged a couple seeds out of the bowl. She hummed as she sucked the juice. “I should’ve looked for a mulled wine recipe with these.”  
“It’s not too late,” Magnus remarked as he picked several pieces of skin from the bowl.  
“Indeed,” she smiled, shifting past him to the living room. She plopped on the couch and picked up her phone, scanning through recipes while Magnus finished the tray of snacks. Occasionally she’d call out ingredients in a recipe to get his opinion. They finally settled on one, and Emilia rose, moving for the kitchen. Magnus stepped to block her. “Oh, no, darling. Drinks are my specialty tonight.” He held out his hand and she placed her phone in it.  
She smiled. “You be alright for a few while I finish wrapping your last gift?”  
He nodded. “I’ll start the wine, and then I thought I’d go for a couple sidecars with the pear brandy.”  
“Sounds delightful.”  
He kissed her cheek and she was off, bounding upstairs to her room while he finished their appetizer spread and cocktails. When she descended fifteen minutes later with two packages, one quite small and the other rather substantial, he glanced to her.  
“I thought you said ‘gift,’ singular.”  
“I forgot about one. Got it ages ago. You do that? Pick something up and put it somewhere for safekeeping and then forget about it.”  
“Yeah,” he chuckled. “I once forgot about a girl’s birthday gift I bought two months in advance and come a couple days before her birthday when I remembered I bought it, I couldn’t remember where I put it.”  
“Two months? You do plan relationships in advance.”  
“Rarely,” he returned. “And certainly not with something as substantial as-- what I mean is I’ve never--”  
“Me either,” Emilia cut in, sliding the gifts under the tree and reshuffling the assortment. “I tried once with Mac, but I think we both knew going into it that it probably wouldn’t work. He was -- is pathological slob with no sense of how to care for his own personal space a clinical condition?”  
“I think it’s called not having your shit together and expecting someone else to clean your messes.”  
She nodded. “Yeah, that. He had a really bad case of it.”  
Magnus had finished measuring the drinks into a shaker and put the cap on. Shaking it, he leaned against the counter and looked to Emilia. “What did you do about it?”  
“Besides break up?”  
“I mean about the living situation. The lease and stuff.”  
“Truth?” She asked, standing and moving toward him. He nodded. “I sublet my place, month to month. I only had to wait two weeks after we decided to call it to move back home. Became intimately familiar with local coffee shops and pubs in that time.”  
He gave a sly smile. “You knew.”  
“I suspected. It wasn’t like I hadn’t been to his place before. There are some things you can change, and ways you can affect someone you’re with, and some things they have to decide to change on their own. He wasn’t so much a fixer-upper as a full renovation project.”  
Magnus nodded, popping the top off the shaker and pouring the drinks into low ball glasses. “You’ve said.”  
“You’re not a project.”  
“Never said I was.”  
“I know. Just a reminder to us both.”  
He arranged curls of orange peel on the edge of the glasses and slid two pieces of cubed pear onto picks. Emilia watched him, smiling, as he arranged the drinks and food spread on a tray and moved into the living area. He set the tray on the coffee table, taking the two drinks with him as he sat down beside her. Their knees met as he handed her a drink and they softly clinked glasses together. Emilia took a sip, letting the sweet-sour mixture swirl in her mouth before swallowing to feel the light sting of the brandy in her throat. She dropped the pick into the glass, then tucked her legs underneath her.  
“Very good, love,” she smiled.  
Magnus nodded his thanks as he took a sip of his own cocktail. He then reached for the meat and cheese plate and held it out to her.  
“You know, we should really get a dining table, but I don’t know where it’d go.”  
Magnus watched as she snagged a couple items, then set the plate back on the tray and plucked a piece of sausage for himself. “So you want to stay here.”  
She shrugged. “We’d need a table regardless.” She popped a piece of cheese in her mouth and Magnus did the same with his meat.  
“We don’t have to decide now,” he continued after swallowing, “but I did have some ideas about remodeling if we want to stay.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “Tell me.”  
Over the next hour, he did. As they sat together, drinking and nibbling between planning for potential adjustments to her house. During a lull in the chat, Emilia rose and entered the kitchen. Magnus followed, taking their empty glasses.  
“I think the nog should be ready now. Would you like some?”  
She nodded, raising the lid on the pot, diving in with tongs to shift the pork around. She replaced the lid slightly askew as Magnus shifted behind her to rinse out their glasses.  
“You know I knew a woman once who worked at one of the magazines and made her own nog every year. It was so thick, but everyone guzzled it down.”  
“Why’s that?”  
She turned, leaning against the counter. “Brandy, whiskey, and rum.”  
Magnus whistled, drying off the glasses. “That’s intense.”  
“Intense and delicious. And guaranteed to get you hammered after a couple cups if you down it fast enough.”  
“And did you partake?”  
She wrinkled her brows with a lopsided smile. “What do you think?”  
“Fair enough. I was more wondering if there were any fun stories to go with your imbibing.”  
“Perhaps.”  
He set the glasses on the counter next to the fridge, then caged her in, pressing his hands on the counter on either side of hers. “The mind reels.”  
“I’m sure it does,” she smirked. She made to duck under him, but he snagged her arm and pulled her back, turning her into his arms. He dove for her lips, both of them giggling between kisses.  
“Perhaps we should try it,” he grinned, easing back from her.  
“I don’t have any rum at the moment. And besides,” she reached out, running a hand down his chest, fingers slipping just below the band of his jeans, “I don’t need copious amounts of alcohol to get me in trouble with you.”  
“Trouble?” He smirked, eyebrow raised.  
She gave a tug on his waistband. He closed the distance between them, snaking his upper body to meet her lips again. Hands moved along one another’s sides and back with gentle, teasing caresses. His lips dipped to her neck, nibbling gently on her flesh.  
“Magnus,” she said, tapping him on the shoulder. “Look.”  
He brought his head up and followed her gaze out the kitchen window. Grey skies had given to a burst of snowflakes, large and wet, falling outside.  
He kissed her temple. “You wanted a white Christmas.”  
She looked back at him, a teasing smile on her lips. “It’s really lovely. All that pristine, virginal white snow.”  
“Darling, we are not going out in the freezing cold to--”  
She placed a finger on his lips. “I know. Far more romantic in fantasy than in reality. Still…” She trailed off, fingers shifting away, as she turned back to watch the snow. It had fallen steadily over the past hour, now with almost and inch on the ground.  
Magnus tugged her hand. “Come on, get your boots on.”  
They pulled on their boots and coats and headed out front. On the small porch, Magnus took her hand and led her out into the yard. The snow drifted down around them, clinging to their hair while they made a small circle around the yard. The snow muffled the steps of their boots, though occasionally a small squeak would be emitted from the ground protesting the frozen matter being pressed into it. They paused underneath the oak tree, shielded a bit by the branches.  
“It is quite lovely,” Magnus sighed. “The quiet of it.”  
Emilia brought his hand to her lips. “A bit cold?”  
He shrugged.  
“Close your eyes,” she smiled.  
“You going to warm me up, or distract me?”  
“Close your eyes and you’ll find out,” she purred.  
He did. She released his hand and backed away a step. He heard her shuffling around him softly, but kept his eyes closed. Then a revelation hit. “Mia,” he exclaimed as his eyes flew open. A wet snowball smacked against his neck, dribbling down into his coat.  
“You shifty wench,” he cried, diving for her. She cackled, skirting his lunge, and sprinted back a few paces. They chased each other around the yard, hurtling clumps of wet snow, screeching and crying at one another. At one point, Emilia slipped and Magnus swooped forward, catching her just before she would have planted on the ground. He hoisted her over his shoulder.  
“Alight,” he panted, “that’s enough for now.”  
“Spoil sport,” she giggled, giving him a playful swat on the behind with one hand. He strode back inside with her folded over his shoulder, planting her in the foyer. They both kicked off their boots, and as Magnus shrugged his coat down, Emilia stepped to him.  
“Thank you for that,” she smiled, then raised herself on her toes, her forearms resting on the top of his shoulders, to kiss his cheek.  
“You’re welcome, darling,” he replied before a final splat of snow hit him in the back of the neck.  
Emilia bounded back, Magnus wresting his coat off as she shrugged quickly out of hers.  
“You’re in for it now,” he growled. She made for the stairs but he wrapped an arm around her waist as her foot hit the second one and pulled her back. They play-wrestled briefly until Magnus had her pinned on the floor behind the couch. His knees penned in her legs while one hand kept both of hers pinned above her head.  
“You minx.”  
“You enjoyed it,” she teased. “You know you did.”  
“I’ll enjoy this,” he smirked. His free hand dover beneath the waistband of her jeans.  
“Magnus,” she squealed. “Magnus don’t you dare -- oh fuck!”  
His hand went straight for her nether lips, extremely cold fingers slipping along her hot, wet folds.  
She squirmed and squealed again as the first knuckle of a finger nestled inside her. Another brushed her clit and she moaned, a pulsating thrill shooting through her entire body.  
“Fuck, Magnus,” she panted.  
“I know how worked up you get playing with me,” he grinned. “You devious little vixen.” He pushed his finger deeper inside and crooked it against her walls while rubbing her clit. Her hips bucked and a tremor ran through her body. Then Magnus withdrew his hand, two fingers coated in her juices, and sucked them. He shifted, pressing his chest against hers, his gaze focused on hers as he dipped his head, noses almost touching.  
“That is for hitting my neck,” he breathed, and in a flash was standing again, striding to the kitchen, leaving Emilia trying to steady her breathing on the floor.  
“You ass,” she panted.  
“No more so than you, darling,” he replied. He took the pitcher of nog out of the fridge and pulled out a ladle to stir it. As he reached up to the cabinet where the liquor was stored, Emilia hoisted herself up a bit, resting on her elbows.  
“Brandy or whiskey?” He asked.  
“I think there’s a bottle of bourbon in the back,” she said, shifting to sitting, pulling her damp socks off and tossing them toward her boots.  
Magnus sifted through the bottles, finally reaching a slimmer bottle of reserve bourbon. Pulling it out, he cracked open the cap and inhaled. “Quite woodsy.”  
He took a swig, lips stretching sideways after swallowing as the liquor stung the back of his throat. He set the bottle down to pull the pitcher of nog out while Emilia sauntered into the kitchen. As Magnus mixed the bourbon into the nog, she pulled a hand towel from the drawer, reaching up to dry off the back of his neck and shoulders. Her fingers gave a gentle massage as she dried and Magnus gave a soft moan.  
“You’re tense, love,” she said softly.  
“Couldn’t have anything to do with your impromptu ambush.” He turned his head to look back at her and smiled.  
“I think I can do something to ease it.” She moved the towel away but returned to massaging the back of his neck.  
“What did you have in mind?” He turned to face her fully, her fingers drifting along his neck to his front shoulder, rubbing gently above his collarbone. She leaned forward and kissed there, then raised herself on her toes to kiss his neck, then cheek. He bent his head down and her lips ghosted along his jaw.  
“Prezzie,” she whispered, then sank back on her heels and looked up at him.  
His expression went from mischievous to a delighted child. “Really?”  
She nodded. “Nog first, or not. Your choice.”  
He turned back to the counter, dipping the long spoon back in the pitcher before withdrawing it. Emilia moved to his side. He took a tiny sip, tongue flicking out to catch a few drops, then offered the spoon to her. She drank what was left.  
“More… something,” he said after swallowing.  
Emilia licked her lips, contemplating. "Cinnamon. Just a dash or two, and maybe another tiny splash of vanilla. It’s super creamy. Needs a little more flavoring."  
Magnus nodded, reaching into the spice cupboard next to the fridge. He added the extras, then gave another couple stirs. Holding the spoon over the pitcher, Emilia leaned forward and took a small sip. Before she could swallow, Magnus kissed her, tongue darting out to taste both the liquor and her.  
“Divine,” he murmured as he pulled back.  
“It is pretty tasty,” she smiled.  
“That’s not what I was referring to.”  
A slight blush flooded her cheeks. Magnus poured them two glasses, then pulled out a block of chocolate from the fridge and shaved a few curls on top of each drink. Emilia leaned against the sink as he worked, taking in the sight of him. He handed her a glass and they toasted.  
“To our future,” Emilia said with a knowing smile.  
“Our future,” Magnus echoed with a calm ease.  
They both sipped their drinks, then moved into the main room. Magnus settled on the couch as Emilia set her glass on the side table and went to the tree. She sat on her heels, contemplating. She looked back at him over her shoulder. “I should probably warn you, none of my gifts are as substantial as yours, not like... “ She shrugged.  
“It was as much a gift for me as anything, darling. You saying yes. Besides,” he added, stretching his legs before crossing them at the ankles, “I know any number of people who’d probably see that present as a cop out. Mel included.”  
Emilia cocked her head, admonishing. “She likes you, Magnus.”  
“She’s just that judgmental of everyone?”  
“Opinionated,” Emilia countered. “But not without the ability to change her mind. And for what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s a cop out at all. I couldn’t have asked for a more wonderful gift.”  
He smiled. “That’s all that matters. Still, I am curious about my nice little pile under there.”  
He scanned the area under the tree, then glanced back to Emilia. She beamed, then turned back to the tree. Leaning forward, she reached around toward the back, pulling out a fairly large box. She slid it across the carpet, turning toward him and scooting it along back to the couch. Magnus eased down to the floor, crossing his legs in front of himself. He took another sip of nog, then set his glass beside hers.  
He examined his wrapped gift for a moment, tilting his head this way and that, running his hands along the box, lifting it slightly to feel its heft. Finally, he worked off the bow, then tore into the wrapping. The box was taped shut and he reached for the letter opener on the tray under the side table. Slicing through the tape, he opened the box and pulled out another box. Below that was another. He glanced at Emilia.  
“Double wrapper. I see your games.”  
He took out both boxes and shifted the wrapped one to his side, stuffing the paper remnants in it.  
“Is there an order?”  
“Top one first,” she said.  
He nodded, then worked the lid off. Shifting aside a few folds of tissue paper, there was a small corkboard, about the size of half a sheet of paper, and a small box of black pushpins. He glanced to her again, eyebrow raised. She said nothing, just inclined her head toward the other box. He had to slice that one open as well, and inside it was stuffed with paper. He wriggled his hands in and grasped a glass jar. Pulling it out slowly, he scrutinized the large, amber-tinted container with its black lid. He set the jar on the floor and pulled the wide lid off. Inside was a small card. Beneath that was another box. He pulled out the card and read.  
_Magnus -_  
_When we worked with Reina on what we do to show appreciation and care for each other, it sort of inspired this. When this jar is empty, I hope there’s more ideas to replace these. Pull one out whenever you need or want, pin it on the board, and let the magic happen._  
_Here there was drawn a small winking smile._  
_There’s a few in there just for surprises, too, because you never cease to inspire and surprise me, and I strive to do the same for you, my love._  
_Merry Christmas,_  
_Mia_  
Card still in hand, Magnus pulled out the box. Opening it, on top sat a handmade label for the front of the jar.  
_Blue -- Stress Relievers_  
_Yellow -- Energizers_  
_Purple -- Date Night Requests_  
_Green -- Outdoor Adventures_  
_Orange -- Lighten Up!_  
_Red -- Romance & More…_  
_Black -- Surprise Me_  
The box contained small sheets of cardstock, dozens and dozens, about the size of business cards, folded in half. He pulled out a blue one. An elegant scrawl greeted his gaze with the words: Massage -- either by me, or professional one, my treat.  
He tugged out a green one.  
_Food fight on the deck. I’ll clean up :)_  
Purple.  
_Mini-golf (maybe you can make me not hate it)_  
He grinned, even as tears pricked his eyes.  
Yellow.  
_Partner yoga class_  
He licked his lips before taking out a red one.  
_Unexpected erection is unexpected! Let me take care of that for you._  
He laughed, a few tears slipping from the corner of his eyes. He looked to Emilia, sitting on her heels, body tense, eyes searching for the truth in his reaction. He looked at the card again, and broke into peals of laughter. He shifted the jar from between them and reached for her, scooting to close the distance between them.  
“You are marvelous,” he managed between breathy laughter, pulling her into his arms. He wrapped her in an embrace, squeezing firmly. His laughter subsided as he nuzzled her neck and shoulder, curls brushing her cheek.  
He shifted his head back to gaze at her. “Thank you, darling. My darling Mia,” he beamed. “This is wonderful.”  
He kissed her, his lips caressing hers with warmth and assurance.  
“You like?” She asked, her voice trembling.  
“I love, darling. I love it.” He hugged her again, a hand twining in her hair as her rubbed her back. When he pulled back again, she smiled. “Happy Christmas.”  
“Very happy,” he smiled back. They shifted up onto the couch, and Magnus picked up both their glasses, handing one to Mia.  
“You want to look at all of them, don’t you?”  
“I do, and I don’t. I like the categories. I may sneak a peek here and there, but I like the surprise, too. I trust your judgment.”  
“If you pull one and you’re not feeling it, you can always swap it out.”  
He nodded. “Can I ask how ‘and more dot dot dot’ those cards get?”  
She took a sip of nog, averting his gaze.  
“That daring, hmm?” He asked with a teasing smile.  
“Well, knowing what I do now, they may not be so daring,” she teased back.  
There was a brief pause, then Emilia dipped a finger in her drink, and placed a dot of it on Magnus’ chin. She leaned forward and licked it off and he chuckled.  
“It’s not all terribly salacious. There are some actually romantic ones in there,” she remarked as she sat back. “But there are a few, shall we say, deviances to explore that we haven’t yet.”  
“I can’t wait,” he beamed. Then his smile faded to a focused, warm expression. “For all of them. Every color. How many are there?”  
“Two-hundred and eighty four.”  
“That’s…” his eyes shifted to one side, calculating. “Mia, is that how many days we’ve been together?”  
“Through tomorrow,” she stated.  
He kissed her again. “I love your mind,” he hummed as he eased back against the couch. His fingertips ran along her calf as he sipped his nog. They sat for a few minutes, basking and sipping, until Emilia sighed with a small shiver.  
“Cold, darling?”  
She shrugged. “A bit. Suppose I could put on a sweater.”  
“Do, if you want, but I’ll make a fire, shall I?”  
She nodded. “OK.”  
Emilia went upstairs and Magnus got to work on the fire. Though once she was out of sight, he stole another red card out of the box. It read: _My ass. It’s yours._  
He bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud, then slipped the card back in the box. He glanced to the stairs, listening for a second, then swiped one more.  
_You Buy It, I Wear It_  
_If it’s lingerie or a kinky costume, inside only, please. Anything else, you choose where it gets worn._  
He replaced this one, too, then shifted the whole present back under the tree. As he moved to the fireplace, he murmured with perfect contentment, “I’m going to marry that girl.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's how we end, for now...


End file.
